


Swept Away

by Daegaer



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Historical, Edo Period, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Kappa, M/M, Minor Character Death, Samurai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 21:12:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6025074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A solitary kappa finds himself intervening to save a human's life after he sees a sword fight near his river-pool.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swept Away

**Author's Note:**

> The title refers to the Japanese proverb "Even a kappa can be swept away by a river."

Gojyo was squatting by the side of the deep pool in the bend of the river, alternating bites of cucumber and fish, and looking up at the clouds scudding across the moon's face when he heard the sound of running feet. He stopped idly thinking about the oncoming rain and put his food down so that he could slip into the water, crouching behind the reeds that fringed the bank. His outline would be obscured enough in the dim light and the runners would soon be past, leaving him at his solitary supper once again.

His sharp eyes, well used to the dark, scanned the woods and focused at the spot where suddenly the undergrowth shook and two figures burst out onto the road that followed the river's course. The young man's sleeves were bound up for travelling – or for fighting, Gojyo thought, seeing the dimmed moonlight suddenly glint on the sword bare in his hand. The woman with him seemed no older, stumbling along as her companion tugged her behind him.

"Quick, it's not far to the ford," the man said.

"I – I can't," she gasped.

"You have to! Once we're across the river the monastery is only minutes away!"

Gojyo reflexively looked downstream. The woman didn't look as if she could take another step, let alone run down to the ford. Even if her companion could get her there they'd both be exhausted by the time they were crossing the river, and Gojyo wasn't the only kappa living in its depths. Maybe the man wouldn't be able to fight the ford's kappa off; the woman certainly wouldn't be able to fight in her state of exhaustion, and – Gojyo sniffed the night air – yes, she was pregnant. The ford was not their best choice at the moment. It wasn't his problem, he thought a little guiltily as she looked around fearfully, catching her breath. They weren't coming near _his_ pool.

"There! I see them!"

The cry was loud in the night. Gojyo sank lower as the couple turned to flee. Two men charged down the road from the upriver direction while another crashed out of the undergrowth from downriver, blocking the couple's escape.

"Get behind me," the man said, pushing the woman back.

She stumbled back towards Gojyo's pool, looking around wildly. He rose up a little, wondering if she'd come into grabbing range and what he'd do if she did. Then his attention was drawn back to the men; the three newcomers edged about to flank their lone opponent. 

"You don't deserve a decent death," one of them said. He was an older man, Gojyo saw, the hair pulled back about his shaved scalp grey and thinning. "To repay all the kindnesses to your family with such treachery!" He stepped in, bringing his sword down to be met with the sharp ring of steel on steel as the young man turned the blow aside and backed up, still trying to keep them all in view. Gojyo wished they'd kill each other and leave him in peace; what interest had _he_ in the quarrels of samurai? They were all bad-tempered, arrogant people who liked to disturb an honest youkai's peace. He slipped silently to the very edge of the water and reached up to touch the hem of the woman's kimono. It felt heavy and expensive, even if it was dirty and snagged with thorns. _I could pull her in_ , he thought, and sank back. He had never drowned anyone at all, and was unsure if this was a matter for shame or pride.

The young fugitive shoved one of his three attackers back, sliding gracefully sideways from the path of another's strike. His own sword came up and around in a move Gojyo couldn't comprehend, and the man whose blow he'd evaded folded at the waist before collapsing face down in the dust. Fat drops of rain began to fall as the other two rushed the young man.

"Think of her, carrying the lord's last child," one of them said, as the young man desperately parried their blows. "Think how closely she'll be guarded, how her health will be ensured, and the child brought up to despise her. Think how once it's born she'll be given to the lord's loyal men and she can think of _you_ when we fuck her raw."

"Just kill him," the older samurai said, seeming irritated at the length of time the matter was taking.

If the threats to the woman had been meant to discourage her companion, they failed. He attacked quickly, moving swiftly on the older of his opponents, his sword singing sharply against the other's blade as he forced his enemy's sword down and brought his own up again in a fast, vicious move. Gojyo shook his head at the arrogance of all samurai that had the young man turn away before the older man seemed to know he was even wounded. Then he smelled the blood pouring down the man's clothing and knew the fight was no longer unevenly numbered.

"That monster's child," the woman said, so quietly that Gojyo wondered for a moment if she were speaking to him. "I can't carry it. I _won't_."

Gojyo frowned. What did this girl know about monsters' children? He'd never heard anything to suggest that the nobles up in the castle were anything other than humans. He froze as she turned towards him and took a hesitant step into the water, shivering as the chill soaked her legs. She took another step, deep enough for the water to reach her hips, the water dragging down her clothing and stopped, shaking.

"Do it," she said fiercely. "Another step. Just fall forwards. Drowning is easy."

Gojyo stared at her, sure she could see him. If she _wanted_ to drown – he thought. He could act like he was expected to, at last. Her face was desolate and very young, and all he felt was sorrow that she was so unhappy - he knew he wasn't going to be the one to kill her. She'd have to find another way. He watched her standing in his pool until she hung her head in defeat at the knowledge that she wasn't going to drown herself and clambered out again, cold and dripping. She tightened her sash and ran at the men circling each other in the road.

"Forgive me!" she cried.

Her companion whirled about, his sash loosened from her grab at his wakizashi. She smiled at him, and slashed the blade across her throat, her eyes widening briefly at the shock.

"Kanan!" he yelled as she fell.

The final of the three samurai's sword flashed in a quick blow, and the young man crashed down onto his knees.

"Join her," the man said in contempt.

"Let's – go – together –" the young man said, and cut up awkwardly from his kneeling position. 

The final samurai stumbled back, looking shocked. Gojyo stood up as he fell, and crept onto the bank. None of them were moving. After another moment he went forward. Two of the samurai were definitely dead, the girl too, her sightless eyes looking up at the rainclouds. Gojyo gently moved her legs and arms to a dignified, straight position. It didn't seem fair to him that such a pretty girl should still look so frightened now that she'd left her troubles behind. A slight noise made him look around. Her young companion drew another shallow, ragged breath as his final opponent scrabbled weakly in the dust; the last cut had severed a vein, Gojyo saw. He sniffed the rich scent of blood pumping out - the samurai didn't have long; the young man had a little longer. There was a deep slash across his stomach; a slower death, but a sure one.

Gojyo chewed on a clawed thumb. The men were dying, he was not to blame for their stupid, quarrelsome deaths. No one could blame a youkai for taking advantage of the fact, he told himself as he bent over the young man, untying his loosened sash. The ragged breathing paused for an instant, and then he heard a faint,

"Thank you."

"What?" Gojyo said in alarm. He wasn't used to humans looking at him, let alone speaking to him, especially in such circumstances.

"I saw you – pre-preserve my sister's dignity. So – kind –" the young man said, and his eyes closed, his strength all run out with the words.

Gojyo sat back on his heels, appalled. No one had ever called him _kind_ before, though they'd called him plenty of other things. He leant forwards, hearing the faintest of breaths from the man. Still alive, just. He scrubbed a clawed hand through his hair; he couldn't take the lifeforce of someone who thought him _kind_. He looked to the side at the other samurai, whose blood was now reduced to a slow trickle, and came to a decision. He lifted the young man's hand and clamped it down hard on the wound, satisfied when he was rewarded with a startled groan.

"Keep that hand there," he said. "I won't be more than a minute."

The other samurai didn't say anything at all, which was a relief, and the business was concluded quickly. Gojyo pulled the body's clothing back down over its legs and went back to the problem he'd made for himself.

"Let me see," he said, opening the slashed clothes and moving the hand still clamped tight over the wound. It was bad, no denying that but – he bent close and sniffed it carefully – it seemed like a clean cut. The intestines hadn't been opened. It was still certain death, of course, if treated by a human doctor, who would simply shake his head and say nothing could be done. Kappa, however, were famed for their prowess in cures. Gojyo wondered if that extended to sword cuts to the gut, then decided there was only one way to find out. He eased the young man out of the ruined clothing and bound his sash tightly around his middle.

"I'm going to carry you," he said. "We're going to go to my home. You'll have to get wet, but it will only be for a moment."

He didn't get any answer, which was what he'd expected, although he did see a moment of surprise on his new friend's face when he easily picked him up like a child. It faded into unconsciousness again almost at once, which made things a lot easier; Gojyo thought he might have faced at least some token resistance when they went into the pool if his patient had been awake. He dived down and dragged the sodden, cold man into the upward-sloping passage that led to his home, cut into the bank. Once his patient had been deposited onto the earthen shelf that served as his bed and covered over with a blanket of deerskin, he turned to his collection of herbs and water-plants, and began pounding a paste together.

Once his patient had a poultice carefully bound against his wound Gojyo sat back on his haunches, feeling confused and appalled. He had a _human_ in his _home_. A human he had no intention of killing or eating. He imagined how the river's other kappa would look at him, and groaned. Everything they already whispered about his family was true; he might as well go ahead and prove it to them. He picked up the shallow dish of juice he had crushed from some of his stock of fresh-picked roots, and dribbled it into his patient's mouth.

"Kanan," the young man whispered. "Kan-" He fell silent again. 

Gojyo sat back on his heels. He couldn't sit here thinking about what a useless kappa he was – he wasn't the only youkai in the area, and unburied bodies with fresh-spilled blood lying in the road were liable to draw the attention of things far worse than himself. He bent over his patient, checking that he was warm enough in the muggy damp bed, then was gone down the tunnel again, as quick as a fish evading a stork's stabbing beak.

* * *

He clambered from the pool and warily scanned the road and edge of the woods. Nothing was moving, though he had a sense of being watched. What should he do, he thought. What _could_ he do? He looked down towards the ford, thinking of how his patient and his sister had wanted to cross it, to try to reach the monastery. The monks would be more than a match for the biggest of youkai, and might even give their fellow humans a funeral. If you believed that humans _had_ any fellow feeling, which few of his kind did. He raked his claws through his unkempt hair and sighed. It was a mile's walk to the ford; faster and safer by far for a kappa to swim. He plunged back beneath the pool's surface.

The ford's kappa was not pleased to see him.

"This is _mine!_ " he said, grabbing Gojyo's ankle. "Who said you could come here, you brat?"

"I'm getting out, old man," Gojyo said, trying to shake him off. "Let go."

"Is that how you speak to your elders? Your mother did a bad job with you. You must take after the other side of the family."

"Don't you speak about my mother," Gojyo said, tugging himself free. "You just keep on sunning yourself in your shallows and leave me alone."

"Damn shame, a decent pool like that being haunted by a creature like you," the older kappa grumbled. "It deserves someone better living in it. It should have been left to your brother."

Gojyo ignored him, climbing out on the far riverbank. He briefly considered pissing down into the ford, but quailed at the thought of his mother's long-gone disapproval. He settled for waving insouciantly at the kappa glaring at him from beneath the water and then turned his back and trotted down the road towards the monastery. He felt horribly visible, as if humans were waiting behind every tree and fence post to leap out and capture him. When he reached the monastery's high walls his courage deserted him almost entirely. It looked so forbidding and alien in the darkness, unlike his little riverbank home, or the watery pleasure of his pool. He crept up to the gates, seeing a cord dangling from a bell. It would be loud, he thought. It would have to be, to be heard inside once the gates were shut for the night. He felt himself droop with failure, dangerously close to allowing the water on his head pour away. He was not brave enough to ring it.

"Are you going to pull that, or just stare at it all night?" a voice said irritably behind him.

Gojyo jumped, and spun around. A young human stood in the road, his feet in filthy and worn straw sandals, and his saffron robes covered in layers of dust and grime. His head, Gojyo saw, had at one point been shaven – it was, he supposed, theoretically still shaven, though clearly overdue for a meeting with a razor. A young child of indeterminate gender clung tightly to his hand.

"I – ah – that is –" Gojyo said.

"Useless," the monk muttered, dragging the child past him, and pulling the bell-rope sharply. "Go back to your river."

"There are unburied bodies on the road back there," Gojyo said in an undignified gabble. "Samurai fought and there are three men dead and a woman."

"And I care because?" The monk scratched at the stubble on his jaw, listening to the sounds of voices sleepily approaching on the other side of the gate.

"She wanted to reach the monastery! I heard her! I thought maybe your people would fetch the bodies. Out of charity."

The monk looked at him, more directly than Gojyo liked. "And you care because?"

The gates were being opened. Everyone would see him, would see what he really was. Gojyo took a step back.

"You humans," he said bitterly. "You're always damn well killing each other. Maybe I don't like it when you leave the trash on my doorstep."

The child looked up at him, its eyes old and golden. It smiled innocently, and Gojyo felt his skin prickle. He almost opened his mouth a final time to tell the young monk that he held a youkai child by the hand but then the gate opened, and monks with lamps started coming out.

He turned and fled.

* * *

His patient was awake when he returned, and had tried to crawl out of bed. Gojyo tucked him up again and poured more medicine down his throat; it was obviously doing him some good.

"You try to sleep," he said. "You need to rest."

"I'm making you sleep on the floor," his patient said in a thin whisper. "I'm a selfish guest."

"Quiet," Gojyo said, tucking the deerskin around him tighter to stop another escape attempt. "I'd be a poor host if I made _you_ sleep on the floor, wouldn't I? You can let me have the bed when you're feeling better."

There wasn't any answer, the young man fallen back into an uneasy sleep. Gojyo sat cross-legged, watching him. He'd never imagined having a human lying in his bed, within such close observation range. He cautiously reached out a hand to wipe the sweat from his patient's face and shaven samurai's scalp. His skin was clammy but the pulse in his neck was steady under the fingers Gojyo lightly pressed against the great vein running down towards the heart. After a little he curled up on the floor as he used to as a child and slept, his dreams full of the sounds of swords.

He woke some hours later to the sound of a loud crash and something large falling against the far wall of his home. One glance at the bed showed it empty, the deerskin flung back, another showed the young samurai sagging weakly between the wall and the bench where Gojyo kept his medicinal plants.

"Hey!" he said. "What are you doing? Come on, you can't even see in the dark, you'll break your neck!"

He slung the young man's arm around his shoulders and helped him up, giving him the dignity of the illusion that he mostly walked back to bed.

"Where – where am I?"

"You're in my home. You're hurt. Just rest, you need to recover. Wait, I'll light a lamp –" 

He struck a spark and lit the small lamp that had been his mother's prize possession. His patient regarded him with wide, surprised eyes from the bed.

"What – that is, who are you?"

"My name's Gojyo," Gojyo said, and handed him a bowl of sour, medicinal juice. "Drink this – it tastes bad, but it'll help heal you. As to what, I'm a kappa."

The young man drank the bowl down, trying to hide his grimace, handing it back politely. He gave Gojyo a sad smile. 

"I am so rude," he said, "speaking in such a manner in your own home. My behavior is really inexcusable."

"It's fine," Gojyo said. "You're not yourself at the moment." He sighed. Humans liked to have nice manners, when they weren't killing each other, or trying to catch youkai. "What's your name?"

"Forgive me," his patient said. "My life is gone, my honour is gone – my name is meaningless and less than dung."

Gojyo patted his arm, hoping to console him, though he thought perhaps it hadn't worked, from the way the young man's eyes flickered to his claws. To distract them both he gutted a fish and sliced the flesh into thin, translucent pieces. With some peppery cress and what remained of his ill-fated cucumber from the previous night it didn't look too bad, he decided, arranging it all in a bowl.

"Eat," he said, "you need to build yourself up. I don't have any rice, sorry."

The young man looked around hopefully for a moment as if expecting something else, then a little awkwardly picked morsels from the bowl with his fingertips. Gojyo decided he shouldn't be outdone by such fine manners, and sliced another fish into chunks for himself rather than simply gnawing on it. They both ate in silence, washing the food down with water. Gojyo pounded roots for a fresh poultice, and examined the slash across his patient's belly carefully, sniffing at it closely as the young man held himself tense and still. There was no smell of infection. Gojyo felt satisfied as he applied the fresh poultice and rebandaged the wound.

"It's doing well."

"If you will excuse me," his patient said, "am I in your larder?"

"What?" Gojyo said, and laughed at the ridiculous question. "No! I told you, this is my home. You're my _guest_ , not a meal." He grinned, supposing that the sharpness of his teeth were giving the lie to his reassurances.

"Forgive me, I'm very foolish. One hears the stories, when one is a child –" The young man looked at him in sudden simple wonder. "I never thought I'd see a kappa. I do not mean to make a personal observation, but – you are perhaps less green than I would have expected."

 _Tell me something I haven't heard before_ , Gojyo thought, thinking of the mockery of the river's other inhabitants. "Some humans are darker than others, aren't they?" he said. "I suppose it's the same with us." He had no wish to let the conversation continue along those lines, so he sat back and pointed vaguely upwards.

"I went to the monastery. That's where you wanted to go, wasn't it? I've asked them to look after your sister's body."

There was silence for a moment, then the young man wiped his eyes. 

"You put me to shame," he said. "I lie here, useless and eating up your stores, insulting you in your own house, and you fulfill a brother's duty to her. Thank you. Thank you, Gojyo. I owe you a great debt."

"You just need to get better," Gojyo said, uneasy at such talk. "Why did you run from your lord?"

"For her sake. I thought we might find some refuge in the monastery – the monks there have argued with the lord before." He lay back and stared at the ceiling, falling silent.

Gojyo thought of the girl, how she'd killed herself to avoid bearing a hated man's child. It was a terrible shame for a samurai to flee his lord's service, but he didn't fault his patient for trying to save his sister.

"You did the right thing," he said. "It was just bad luck you didn't succeed. Don't despair, there isn't a kappa in this river who wouldn't agree you did the right thing. You just took your kin and ran; it's not like you slaughtered your lord and all _his_ kin as you went."

His patient covered his eyes with his hands, the fingers digging in sharply as if he wished _he_ had claws, and laughed hollowly, the sound rising towards hysteria. Gojyo pulled his hands away from his face and held them in one of his own. It was understandable to break down when the reality of being alone finally hit, he thought, but his patient would surely be ashamed afterwards if he were allowed go on too long. The laughter dwindled into desperate, ragged breaths, and Gojyo squeezed the captive hands lightly. 

"I don't know any prayers," he said, "but if you want to say prayers for your sister, I can keep quiet at least."

His patient shook his head, forcing himself back under control. It at least showed he was getting a little stronger, Gojyo thought. Perhaps he'd even live, if he had encouragement to try.

"I don't think you lost your honour," he said quietly. "You sacrificed everything for her when she needed you. I know _I'd_ always think well of a brother who gave up everything to help me." He tried to look as harmless as possible, the kind of youkai someone might tell a confidence to. "Won't you tell me your name?"

"I failed her. I don't deserve a name any more," his patient said, but at least he just sounded tired. He shifted a little on the bed, looking at the hand holding his firmly and said, "Your fingers are webbed. Is that for ease in swimming?"

"I – well, yes, I suppose so," Gojyo said. "I never really thought about it." He smiled, as if at a child, as his patient began to look discomfited. "Now you think you're being rude again. Go ahead, ask anything you want, I don't mind. No one's ever asked me anything like this before. No one who's worried about being rude, anyway." 

"If I asked you to eat me, would you do it?"

"Hah! No. It'd be _rude_ , now that you've been my guest." Gojyo wrapped his arms around his legs and grinned at his patient's solemn face. "It's a request I'd have to regretfully refuse, even if a host should accommodate a guest's wishes."

"A pity. I'd like to be of some use to someone."

Gojyo frowned, his mood darkening at the expression before him. "Am I healing you just so that you can end up killing yourself properly later? Don't do that."

"I can't make that promise."

Gojyo thought of the girl cutting her own throat, of the horror in his patient's face, and knew he'd do it the moment he was well enough, and left alone long enough. 

"Maybe you couldn't, if you were up there," he said, gesturing up at the daylight world, "but who says you have to be there? You could stay here with me! I know it's a bit cramped - although my whole family used to live here, believe it or not -but I could dig out another chamber. You could be my guest even when you're well. Things work differently when you live under the river." 

His patient regarded him in astonishment.

"You would really want me here for ever, just to keep me alive?" he said. " _Why?_ What would your friends think?"

"I wouldn't let them eat you," Gojyo said, sulkily, feeling rather foolish. 

The laughter, when it came this time, was purely natural sounding. The young man stopped suddenly, as if he were shocked that he could ever have laughed again in his life. It was a sign of hope, Gojyo thought, his foolish feeling vanishing to be replaced by the pleasure of such a sound in his home after so long. His own laughter was cut short when he heard a loud, discordant noise echoing up the passageway, and a shivering feeling ran over his skin. Someone was throwing things into his pool.

"Rest," he said, trying to sound as if nothing were wrong, although anger was rising in him, fast. "I'll be back soon."

"What is it?"

He didn't stop to answer, scurrying down the earthen passage and into the water at the bottom of the pool. He growled as a stone sank past him to embed itself into the mud. Looking up he saw a small figure on the bank fling another stone, disturbing the water, and barely missing Gojyo's head. He rose up to just under the surface, seeing the wavering image of the figure tossing another stone in its hand. It was perhaps, he thought, time to at least drag someone under water, even if he turned out to have cold feet about actually drowning them. He reached a long arm up towards the figure as it got ready to throw.

"Kappa! Kappa, come out of there!"

Gojyo paused, then peered cautiously above the water. The young monk from the previous night glared down at him from the safety of dry land as the youkai child flung its stone. Gojyo flinched as the pool's water was disturbed again.

"Stop it!" he said.

"Come out, then." The monk gestured to the child, who scampered back to his side. "Where's the other body?"

"What?" Gojyo said. He let himself float into the deepest part of the pool, feeling himself moved a little by the river's current. "What body?"

"There was one sandal too many in the road," the monk said. "And –" He clicked his fingers. The child held up a sodden straw sandal. "This was floating in your damn pool. Give back what you haven't eaten and we'll go."

Gojyo stood straight up in the deep water, outraged. "I haven't eaten anyone! And there is no other body! Go away!" Behind the monk and child he saw other monks staring. One of them made a sign to ward off evil, whispering prayers. Gojyo hissed in annoyance. How _rude_. 

The young monk poked the end of his staff into the pool in an equally rude manner. "Listen, you scaly moron, those dead idiots we've carted back to the monastery were all the retainers of Lord Hyakugan – I don't think they came out here at night to kill each other and the girl. Where's the man who killed them?"

Gojyo shrugged. "Don't know. He must have run off." The child waved the sandal at him, giggling, and Gojyo began to reconsider his position on drowning children. "He must have thrown that into my home first. Humans are such untidy creatures."

"If you don't give the body back," the monk said, "I'll exorcise this pool. It won't be fit for _any_ kappa, even such a one as you, and you can explain that to your neighbours up and down the river."

Gojyo stared at him in horror. His mother's family had _always_ haunted the bend in the river. He let himself sink down until only his nose and eyes were showing, trying to think. It wasn't fair – he had done the work of keeping his patient alive this far, and human doctors were nowhere near as skilled as kappa. He'd only had company for a night and a morning, but already he was used to conversation and the sound of laughter, he thought, and this damn monk – he swam over to the bank and climbed out. The saffron-wearing bastard didn't so much as take a half step back.

"He's not dead," Gojyo said. "He'd do better staying with me until he's healed."

"He'd do better with his own kind," the monk said. "Get him."

"I'm healing him, I'm not going to eat him," Gojyo said, hoping he didn't sound like he was begging.

"He doesn't belong with you," the monk said. "You're the one who said you didn't want human trash left on your doorstep."

"He'll die with you!"

"Then we'll give him a funeral. Get him. Now."

Gojyo looked at him closely. He didn't look like he'd slept much, as if in fact he might have spent his night awake persuading the others that they should come and attend to the bodies. His robes were at least cleaner than what he'd been wearing the previous night, but he hadn't taken the time to shave his head properly. And even if he had threatened Gojyo's pool, he _was_ here, and _was_ apparently caring for a youkai child. _He listened to me_ , Gojyo thought. _I think. Damn him_.

"Wait," he said ungraciously, and dived. He was back by his patient's side within seconds, dripping and trying to appear cheerful.

"Are you all right?" the young man said. "Can I help?"

"Everything's fine – there are people waiting, people to help you. The monks – they'll keep you safe from your lord, won't they? They'll care for you until you're well, they say you're better with them than with me."

"My lord can't touch me now," his patient said. "Have the monks taken my sister for burial?"

"Yes," Gojyo said. He held a last bowl of medicine to his patient's lips, hoping that perhaps the man would refuse to go.

"I'll go then, to thank them," his patient said calmly, "If you will help me. I can never repay you, Gojyo. You are more of a friend than I have known for many years."

Gojyo smiled sadly, and slipped his arms under the young man's shoulders and hips, and lifted him from the bed. "Come on." He helped his patient creep down the passageway to the water, and put his arms around him. "Take a deep breath, it's going to be wet and cold," he said. "But try not to panic, it's just for a few seconds."

"I trust you," his patient said, and took a careful breath.

Gojyo flung them both under the water and kicked out from under the overhanging bank and up for the surface. They broke into the air and he towed his spluttering patient to the bank where the dripping man was pulled out by wide-eyed monks. Gojyo tried to get out to help and found himself shoved back, one monk's pike-blade too near to his eyes for comfort.

"Hey!" he said, but they ignored him, bundling up his patient and taking him out of sight down the road. A stone splashed into the water beside him, insultingly close.

"Enough, Goku," the young monk said, turning away. "Come on."

"If he needs medicine, come back," Gojyo said.

The monk stopped, and looked back. "You're a strange youkai. What do you care?" He narrowed his eyes as he looked Gojyo up and down. "Huh," he said finally. "You don't eat humans?"

"Never yet," Gojyo said. "Perhaps I haven't seen a plump enough child."

"I've heard that kappa like to seduce the village girls," the monk said. "A girl who had a kappa's child gets rid of it, doesn't she, because it looks so monstrous? What would happen? Would she throw the baby into the kappa's pool?"

"Seems to me if she did that, the kappa'd eat it," Gojyo said stonily. "Everyone knows that's all kappa ever do with children."

"Huh," the monk said, and walked off without another word, the child running around him.

Gojyo watched them go, then dived back under the water, trying not to think about his family, his upbringing, or the loss of his patient.

* * *

Life returned to quiet normality. The river's other kappa ignored him. The river's fish continued to form his dinner, along with a few stolen cucumbers. No one ever came from the monastery with news, or seeking medicine, and he realised that his patient had either forgotten him or had died. It was better that way, he thought. No one bothered him, and he bothered no one in return.

The season was beginning to change, the nights becoming cooler, when his pool was disturbed again. Huddled in his riverbank home, Gojyo sat up in the damp darkness as something splashed into the water outside.

 _That damn kid_ , he thought. Who else had ever thrown stones? He sped out into the water, determined to at least give the brat a soaking with a wave. To his confusion, he saw something floating in the centre of the pool; reaching up he pulled it under and grinned. A cucumber. _A gift_. Someone had politely given him a gift so that he wouldn't drown them! _Someone_ had respect. He peeped out above the water, and sank down again in surprise. Then he rose up again to stand in the deep water and cautiously nodded at his old patient. He looked well, Gojyo thought, his skin healthy, his samurai shaven scalp growing in.

"You survived, even with a human doctor," he said.

"Yes, I was told you'd taken excellent care of me."

Gojyo held up the cucumber. "Thank you – you should have written your name on it, so I'd be sure to know who I'm not meant to drown."

"Ah – I'm known these days as Hakkai. Please forgive me, it didn't occur to me that you were formally educated."

"Oh sure," Gojyo said. "Lots of youkai can read. Thank you for the cucumber, Hakkai. It's good to know a name for you."

"Thank you, Gojyo," Hakkai said. "Thank you for everything. You helped me, you took over my duty to my sister when I could not. I owe you so much." He bowed deeply.

By reflex, Gojyo bowed to him as well, the water on his head running away. He wavered and fell backwards into the water, as if he were the weakest of human swimmers. Regaining control of himself he stood up again, and bowed more carefully. 

"Have you decided to go on living?" he asked.

"The abbot has told me that I must atone for my actions by living and serving him," Hakkai said. "And so I do. He's a better master than I had before."

Gojyo came over to the bank and climbed out. Hakkai – how good it was to have a name for him, he thought – was very polite in refusing to show any alarm at his appearance. Gojyo sat down, trying to make it obvious what a peaceful sort of kappa he was. After a few moments Hakkai sank down beside him, sitting as neatly as if he were in a nobleman's hall.

"A samurai serving an old monk," Gojyo said, saluting him with the cucumber. "It must be more peaceful than before."

"Not really," Hakkai said. "He has quite a temper. He's not old, either. You've met him – he said you asked him to tend to the bodies after the fight, and that you argued with him about giving me back."

" _Him?_ " Gojyo said. He laughed. "He can't be the abbot, he looks like he's barely more than a boy!"

Hakkai just smiled, and produced another cucumber from the folds of his sleeve. "I told him I owed you a great debt and he said I could come to see you to settle it. I know I never can, of course. Especially not with these late-season cucumbers."

Gojyo looked up from taking a cool, crunching bite of his prize and felt a strange warmth in his chest. He was sitting and _joking_ , he thought, as he had not done for a very long time.

"You could keep coming," he said. "Tell him that that's how you're settling any debt you think you owe, you're coming to see me. Then he'll let you come, because he's already given you permission, right?"

Hakkai regarded him silently for a moment, then, "You want me to visit you? Certainly, if you wish it – I may have to move on to pickled cucumbers, however."

"Just come," Gojyo said, glad the blush wouldn't show too much. "I don't get many visitors."

Hakkai sat back on the bank casually, crossing his legs out before him like a peasant. "I really didn't expect a kappa to be like this," he said, as if to the air. He smiled gently, teasingly. "Of course, I really had no expectation of meeting a kappa at all."

"Maybe I'm an unusual kappa," Gojyo said, and blinked at how it didn't hurt at all to say, for once. He poked Hakkai's leg with a careful claw. "Or maybe I'm just making an exception for you. Until you put on a bit more weight, get a bit tastier-looking."

Hakkai grinned, like he knew it was a joke, and lifted his face to the late summer sun. "Tell me about your medicinal plants."

"All right. Tell me about living with your monks."

At some point in the conversation, Gojyo broke his cucumber in half and gave a piece to Hakkai. They weren't in his home, but being on the riverbank made Hakkai _almost_ his guest again. Besides, he thought, sharing was what friends should do.


End file.
